Tangobuddy
by morganna le fay
Summary: There are days in your life that you never forget...Like the day April died. Mark's POV of April's deathNot a MarkApril fic
1. Chapter 1

Okay people, I'm taking a different tack here. This will be an almost moment by moment remembrance of the day April died. It will be a few chapters long and in Marks POV. And no, this is not April/Mark. Enjoy and check back for updates.

There are certain days in life that you never forget. It doesn't matter if they change you for better or for worse; they leave a mark on you, deep inside. Like the day April died. In those scant 24 hours my world was ripped apart and then haphazardly slapped back together again, leaving me bruised and sick, forcing me to become responsible for someone I had relied on for years. Every moment of that awful day haunts me. There's no escaping it. I can't help but think that if I had only seen the signs, said something, stopped her, life would have been different.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry about the wait, ya'll. Lets cut to the chase.

"Rog, you're not getting ready for a coronation! Let's go!"

I hammered on the bedroom door and rolled my eyes at Collins, standing behind me. "This is taking forever. All he had to do was change his damn shirt!"

Collins smiled. "I've never known Roger Davis to go anywhere without looking as good as he possibly can." There was a slight pause as we exchanged glances. Great. This was going to take a while…

"Hey Roger!" the anarchist raised his voce and moved past me to the door. "We're not gonna take it easy on you just because its your birthday! Come on man, we don't have all night!"

"Take it easy on him, guys, "Benny intervened from his seat on the couch. 'He's turning twenty-four after all. That's practically dead."

There was a sudden sound a lot like a shoe being thrown at the inside of a bedroom door, in our general direction. "I heard that, you fag, "came Roger's muffled growl.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh. Sorry Collins."

A bout of laughter followed, but there was one person who remained apart from our joviality. April Keane was curled up opposite Benny on the sagging couch, seemingly absorbed in a magazine. Bit I could see her blue-grey eyes regarding us from over the top of the glued binding.

April. I hadn't liked her at first, you know. She just seemed…wrong to me. Roger just thought I was being a snob, of course. I could still hear him, "So she's different then what you're used to. So what? Hate to break it to you Mark, but I don't need your approval in everything I do!" I couldn't find a way to tell him that it wasn't like that. I mean, she was nice enough, and really pretty. She had red hair, a thin yet curvy frame, and a cute little upturned nose that wrinkled when she smiled. I dunno…I guess it was the network of bruises running across her arms that kind of destroyed her appeal. To me at least.

When she and Roger began getting serious, I in turn began getting nervous. I had been terrified that dating her would lead my best friend to experimenting with drugs. Hard stuff. And, lo and behold, though he denied it, I knew she had talked Roger into trying heroin more than a few times. Hence the reason for my not exactly chummy relationship with Miss Keane. However, paradoxically, April seemed to be genuinely fond of me. She would ruffle my hair, offer unsolicited (but painfully accurate) criticism on my screenplays, and ask me to dance with her. Roger had yet to master the art of dance ("Christ, what a waste of time!") but April had taken tango lessons for 9 years. She would always claim, with a teasing smile, that I helped keep her flexible. She had this way of just saying whatever came into her head, something that made me blush more times than I can count. As time went on, I let my guard down a bit and, against my better judgment, found myself becoming much warmer towards her. But sometimes I would lie awake at night, praying to Whoever was up there that Roger would somehow avoid getting hooked on heroin.

I don't think it helped much.

Anyhow, I kept trying to catch her eye over the top of the magazine, but for some reason, she was avoiding my gaze. Puzzled, I was about to go over and sit by her when the bedroom door swung open to reveal my best friend, in all his rockstar glory.

"Ta-da!" he sang. 'The Birthday Boy is ready to go!"

Collins rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I think it's about time for my birthday by now."

"What took you so long?' Benny got up from the couch, which creaked alarmingly, and came over. "Collins' date's probably already gone by now.'

"Nah, Steve's cool. I told him we might be a little late.' The anarchist pulled on his coat as he spoke.

Roger shrugged. "I couldn't find my other black sock." He stuck out one Converse-clad foot for inspection. "You can't expect me to go out sockless on my birthday."

I draped an arm over the shoulders of his leather jacket. "As Earth-shattering as it may seem, socks don't always have to match, buddy."

He laughed and prodded me in the chest. "This is coming from the fashion guru of New York City, right?"

I smiled. "Touché."

As we all grabbed our coats and various wraps, Roger stepped over, took April's hand and, in a move that would have put Sir Galahad to shame, helped her up off the couch. "Hey Princess, are you positive that you don't want me to stay with you?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. "I'm fine, baby. It's just a cold. I'll get some rest and be a hundred percent better by tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…I'm sure."

"Okay then."

They kissed again, April holding the embrace out for a bit longer than necessary. When Roger finally touched her face and went to put on his scarf, it seemed to me that she looked very small.

Once the group was all bundled up against the cold November night, we said goodbye to April and left the apartment. I was the last to go, and was just about to close the door behind me when I heard her call my name.

"Mark?"

I peeked back in. "Yeah?'

She was standing almost directly in front of the door, face to face with me. For a half-second, neither of us moved, then she suddenly stepped forward and pressed her lips against my cheek.

"See you later, Tango Buddy."

With a small smile, she closed the door, leaving a bemused filmmaker to run after his friends, trying to rid himself of the intuitive knot in his stomach.

Like? Hate? Please, please, please review! (I'm not too proud to beg!)


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! They're what make me keep writing. (That and the fact that I kind of want to find out what happens in my own story.) Oh, FYI, I'm having some issues with keeping the italics I type on the final document. Until I figurer that out, all italics or a character's thoughts will be signaled with –these-

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Five hours later, Roger and I crept up the rickety stairway to the loft, trying not to piss off any sleeping tenants. It was just the two of us. Collins had opted to have another cup of coffee with Steve (who had turned out to be a pretty cool guy), and Benny decided to stay with them. Probably as a chaperone.

As we paused on the landing so I could fish the front door key out of my pocket, Roger turned to look at me. "Thanks for tonight, Mark. It was really cool of you, Benny and Collins to spend a whole evening pretending to hang on my every word."

I grinned. "Don't get used to it. I've had about as much non-stop Roger as I can take."

He chuckled and pushed the door open. "Come on, admit it. You're jealous of my winning personality."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Rog."

The loft was warm, but almost pitch black. I stumbled into Roger as I entered, unable to see an inch in front of my face. "Thanks," I said as he steadied me. "Where's April?"

'Where' indeed. I didn't know why, but I was beginning to get that nervous, sinking feeling again. It was just too dark, too quiet. Probably just paranoia, but still…

There was a small silence as my roommate made his way towards his bedroom. Then, "Mark, I found her!" I followed to see light filtering out from under the bathroom door, invisible from our earlier viewpoint in the entryway. Roger smiled. "She's probably just taking a bath."

-Or shooting up- I stopped myself before the words slipped out. Roger and I were beginning to argue about that issue with increasing regularity; how I thought April would unwittingly be the death of him, and how he was "sick of me interfering with his personal life." Those "discussions" never ended well, and I didn't want to ruin a nice evening with a fight. Sighing unconsciously, I tapped on the bathroom door. "April! We're back, just to let you know!"

There was no reply.

Roger's green eyes met mine for a split second, then he raised a fist and knocked harder. "April! Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Screw this," he muttered and turned the doorknob.

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Sorry about the short chapter. Next one will be longer, I promise. Read and review please, and when I return from vacation, I'll update. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Hi guys! Sorry that this next chapter has been so long in coming. Life has been busy. But now it's the event you've all been waiting for: the death of Miss April Keane. Also, thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews. They're the reason I keep going!

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The door swung open, it's hinges creaking much more quietly that usual. Roger stepped in quickly, and I saw him tense, his eyes wide with shock and horror.

"Oh Jesus Christ! April!"

There was a terrified, hysterical note in his cry that chilled my blood far more than anything he could have said. I pushed my way into the bathroom to see Roger kneeling on the cold tile floor, cradling April's body in his arms.

…April's body…

Glassy eyes stared out of a grey face, seeing nothing. And there was blood. Oh God, it was everywhere. All over her green sweater and jeans, leaving stains on Roger's hands, congealing in little puddles near his knees…

"Mark!" My friend's voice sounded thick and strangled. "Mark, get help!"

Almost unable to tear my eyes away from the awful sight before me, I backed out of the room and made a dash for the phone. My fingers were shaking so badly I could barely dial. It rang twice, then I heard a crisp response from the other end.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?" At the sound of that voice, I couldn't fight back the blind panic I felt rising in my chest, choking me. This was actually happening. This was real…

"It's- it's my friend, I mean, my best friend's girlfriend! I think she was mugged or something…There's blood all over the place!" I was starting to lose it; I could see the blackness clawing at the edges of my vision.

"All right, sir," the operator cut in, "Is the victim conscious?"

"I…oh shit….I don't think so… No. No she's not! Jesus, there's so much blood!"

"Calm down, sir. Now, what's your name?"

"M-mark Cohen."

"Where do you live?"

As I dictated the address, my breath come in thin gasps, and I realized, I was verging on hyperventilation.

"All right Mark, we'll send someone over right away, but I need you to stay on the phone with me until then."

"What? No, I cant'! I've gotta help Roger!" With that, I slammed the receiver down, not bother to put it back in its cradle.

"Rog, the cops are on their way!"

Running into the bathroom, I witnessed something I had never seen before: Roger crying. He was holding April close, ignoring the dried blood that covered the front of his shirt, his lips moving as if in prayer. I felt a wave of nausea hit me as I watched my beautiful friend, cold and unresponsive under his trembling hands. I knelt down next to him, and, hoping against hope, lifted April's wrist, feeling for a pulse.

I found something else.

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Short chapter, I know. Hopefully, I'll be able to update on Thursday. Until then, tell me what you think. This was a difficult chapter to write.


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